Dental Damned

As a type-A eldest child, I follow directions to the letter, sometimes to my detriment. After spending much of my early childhood being told by the dentist to brush my gums more, I have now apparently spent my adult life brushing my gums too hard. Thus in the last 24 hours, I’ve acquired a periodontist and a prescribed electric toothbrush. I always assumed electric toothbrushes were one of those superfluous gadgets adding to everyone’s electricity bills (a belief only reinforced by the fact that Sainted Boyfriend has one, as he both loves gadgets and has electricity included in his rent) but apparently they are actually recommended if you are like me and can not be trusted to brush your own teeth properly.

I’ve used it once so far. The noise doesn’t bother me as much as the hygienist warned me it might. The vibration of it is very weird, and feels far more forceful to me than any pressure I was providing manually, even set on “Sensitive.”  The thing that’s going to take the most getting used to is the extra space it uses, especially when I’m trying to reach between my cheek and the outside of my molars.  It also comes with this nifty little timer (which connects to the toothbrush by radio frequency control) to make sure you are brushing two full minutes.  Turns out two minutes isn’t really that long a time to me, which probably means I was not only brushing too hard, I was spending too much time doing it.

Moral of the story: go to the dentist more than once every four years, and only buy soft bristle toothbrushes.

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